Speak Aloud What Until Now I've Only Sung
by HermioneCrookshanks919
Summary: It takes eleven years of bad timing and miscommunication, plus one called off engagement, but eventually they figure it out. Austin/Ally through the years. "Austin wants to say something cheesy, like, 'You're the only girl for me,' but he's pretty sure that would violate the 'just friends' thing they have had going for the last four years."
1. Chapter 1

They are 18 and prom is just around the corner. He wants to ask her to what is supposed to be the greatest night of their high school lives, but he takes just a _bit_ too long working up the nerve, and when he finally approaches her and tries to nonchalantly suggest that they go together she already has a date.

With Dallas.

Of course.

Fate would decide to screw with him like that.

So he asks Kaitlin from his English class (because she's nice and unimpressed with his celebrity and, most importantly of all, _she is not Brooke_) and everyone has a decent enough time dining and dancing in the Miami Marriott's grand ballroom. He even manages to get in a dance or two with Ally, although Dallas monopolizes all of the slow ones (_So much for not knowing how to slow dance_, he thinks bitterly to himself). Near the end of the night he wanders off to the terrace that overlooks the marina. Scattered about the terrace are tables and chairs, but everyone else must still be in the ballroom (or have already sneaked off to hotel rooms), because they are all empty.

He stares out at the water, and for a few minutes he allows himself the luxury of wondering what it might have been like to come here with Ally; to have worn a red boutonniere instead of a purple one.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a cheerful voice inquires. Ally bounds into view, her hair a bit mussed and the strap of her red dress hanging off her shoulder (_From the dancing_, Austin reassures himself, _it's definitely just from the dancing_). "Sorry," she laughs at his startled expression. She straightens her strap and joins him at the delicate, white iron fence. "Things got a bit crazy after they announced Prom King and Queen – it was Parker and Rachel, by the way—"

"Nice."

"Apparently you were a very close second," she adds, nudging him with her shoulder. "Anyway, I saw you disappear so I thought I'd follow. You don't mind, do you?"

He doesn't, but even if he did he's pretty sure his annoyance would disappear after one look at her eager face. "Nah, it's cool," he tells her. They fall into a comfortable silence as they take in the view together. The water crashes lightly against the docked boats, and he feels the start of a light breeze. From the corner of his eye he sees a stray curl blowing across Ally's face, and it takes everything in him not to reach out and push it behind her ear.

"Where are Trish and Dez?" he asks in an attempt to distract himself.

"I _think_ Dez is still 'filming for posterity,' and last I checked Trish was busy, uh, making out with Roger." Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, and now more than ever Austin wishes he could read her thoughts (or maybe it's better that he can't; god knows what he would do if he heard her thinking about, well, her date).

Speaking of: "And, uh, Dallas?" He does his best to sound uninterested, and either he is a much better actor than he (or anyone else) gives himself credit for or Ally is too distracted to notice.

"Oh, he's dancing with Sally Thompson," she answers. Austin raises an eyebrow. "You're okay with that?"

She shrugs. "Sure. I wanted to get some air and he wanted to keep dancing, and Sally didn't come with anyone. Anyway, I like Dallas – as a friend – but that whole crush thing ended a while ago."

"Why'd you come with him then?" Austin finds himself asking before he can realize what he is doing and _shut the hell up_.

Ally looks bemused. "Because he asked, and he isn't the worst person to spend an evening with. Besides, it's not like I was going to get any other invitation. Not that there's anything wrong with coming alone!" she adds quickly. "I just figured we'd have a fun time together. And we did." She turns her attention back to the marina, as if there is nothing left to say.

It must be "foot in mouth" night, because Austin can't seem to stop asking questions that are sure to put them in an awkward situation. "What if I had asked?"

"Huh?" She glances over at him.

"If I had asked you to prom. What would you have done?"

Their eyes lock. Ally's lips part open in surprise, and memories of what it was like to kiss her flood his brain. Austin clenches his fingers into a fist. _He will not grab her and kiss her he will not grab her and kiss her he will not…_ After what feels like an eternity she swallows and answers, "Then I … I guess I wouldn't have come here with Dallas."

She's staring up at him with cautious, almost hopeful eyes, and his heart starts beating out of his chest. His mantra long forgotten, he takes a step closer, followed by another, and another, until he can see the marina lights reflected in her eyes. He hears her breathing quicken, but she doesn't back away or break her gaze. He leans in, about to close the distance, when a voice calls out, "There you two are!" They quickly part and turn around to face Dez. "The limo's about to leave. We were _this close_ to leaving you behind."

"Sorry," Ally calls to him, a blush gracing her cheeks for the second time that night. She glances over at Austin, nervously biting down on her lip as she waits for his response. He wants to tell her that they can spare another minute – they're the ones who put in most of the money for the limo, after all (although somehow he doesn't think that will prevent Trish from leaving without them). But he doesn't. "We should, uh, we should get going." He swears Ally's face falls at his words, but a second later she is smiling brightly as ever as she voices her agreement, and he wonders if it was all in his mind.

The limo takes them all back to Marino High for After Prom. When they enter the school Austin tries to grab Ally for a moment – to at least _talk_ about what happened – but Trish immediately whisks her away to get their portraits done by a caricaturist and catch her up on all of the latest prom gossip.

"Hey, you wouldn't mind if I went to hang out with Jess and Lily, would you?" Kaitlin says.

"Huh?" Austin asks, preoccupied with the sight of Ally's retreated figure. "Oh, no, sure, that's fine. I, uh, had a good time, by the way. Thanks for coming with me."

Kaitlin smiles. "Same here."

She walks away, leaving Austin alone with his thoughts … which immediately turn to Ally.

It's probably best just to let it go, he reasons to himself. A relationship complicated everything last time. They decided to just be friends for a reason.

_Because you weren't ready to be a couple _just yet, a voice reminds him. He quiets it. In three months Ally heads off to Philadelphia for college and he leaves for L.A. to become a full-time recording artist. Now's not the time to start a relationship.

_If not now, when_?

#####

They are 20 and Austin is performing for a sold-out arena at Madison Square Garden. He ends the night with "I Got That Rock N' Roll," and from the side of the stage Ally shakes her head in slight amusement as she watches him soak in the attention. This number has a tendency to rile up the female fans, and Ally _knows _that Austin is well aware of this (what he's _not_ aware of is how her breath catches in her chest as she watches him take complete control of the stage). When he finally drags himself to the wings he is beaming and out of breath, and it's like every last inch of him is glowing. He spots Ally right away and grabs her, spinning her in a hug that lifts her clear off the ground. She laughs, more than accustomed to Austin's post-performance high but always thrilled when she is the subject of the enthusiasm.

"Enjoyed yourself out there, huh?" she teases when he finally places her back on her feet. Austin rolls his eyes at her clear insinuation. "The girls were all over you again. _Imagine_."

#

Austin wants to say something cheesy, like, "You're the only girl for me," but he's pretty sure that would violate the "just friends" thing they have had going for the last four years. Instead he shoves her lightly and tells her to shut up. "Like the guys weren't all over _you_ in our last duet," he adds for good measure.

"Oh, right, they just _love _the ballads."

He decides it is best not to tell her that he spent that entire number completely mesmerized by her presence. (He just hopes to god his face didn't make it completely obvious, because chances are that come tomorrow some audience member will have posted the concert to the internet.)

They join up with Trish and Dez, effectively ending the conversation. Austin glances at Ally from the corner of his eye as she and Trish discuss plans for downtime next week ("Ally, it's going to be the middle of August in _D.C. _- there's no way I'm dragging myself from monument to monument, waiting for my hair to frizz").

She thinks he always finishes up with "Rock N' Roll" so he can go out with an ego boost, and, okay, that is definitely part of it. But more than anything else it's because he knows she will be watching him from the side of the stage (because it always takes at least twenty minutes for her to change into more casual clothes and remove the stage make up, and while she is more than willing to join Austin for a few numbers she is yet to stay on for the encore performances, so she usually leaves the stage one number before Austin takes his first bow— and wow he really hopes it doesn't sound incredibly creepy that he has taken the time to figure all of this out).

Not that he would ever tell her the real reason behind his song choice. Expressing a desire for his best friend to see him perform what critics call his "most commanding performance" would also probably be a clear violation of their "Just Friends" rule.

He's really starting to hate that rule.

#####

They are 21 and– well, actually, Ally's not 21 – not quite yet. Her birthday is in two and a half hours (seven hours and 22 minutes if one wants to be exact). She spends most of that evening in the library, poring over her textbooks. Most of her friends are pre-med or studying abroad, so she had resigned herself to a rather quiet birthday alone. The last thing she expects as she walks into her apartment is to find Austin standing in the living space she shares with her two – currently absent – roommates, yelling, "Surprise!" and grinning ear to ear.

"Austin?" she gapes, so taken aback that she doesn't even bother to start removing the many layers of outerwear that protect her from the Philadelphia winter. "What are you…? I thought you were finishing up your tour!"

"I am," he says, still smiling. "But I made sure nothing was scheduled for today and tomorrow so I could be here. Like I would really miss the chance to see Ally Dawson have her first real drink."

Slight bemusement starts to replace her shock. "It's not like you've never seen me drink before," she points out, then quickly adds, "Not that I'm not glad you're here." She walks towards her room and Austin follows behind her like an eager puppy. "Oh, c'mon, three sips of champagne at New Year's do _not _count. I'm talking a drink with some actual alcohol in there! With no parental supervision!"

Ally raises an eyebrow, not yet convinced.

"It'll be great! It's 9:30 now, so we'll get to a bar around – what? – ten, spend the next two hours drinking Shirley Temples or virgin daiquiris, and when the clock strikes midnight you'll order your first 'I'm officially 21' drink!"

"I don't know," she says wearily. "I'm not sure if I'm up for such a clichéd 21st birthday celebration. And I have class tomorrow."

"Ally, it's clichéd for a reason," he laughs. "But if you'd rather stay here then that's cool, too. It's your birthday."

"Thanks, Austin. I appreciate it." She starts taking off her coat, only for Austin to intercept with a grab of her shoulders.

"But—"

"I should've _known_ there was a 'but' in there," Ally groans.

"_But_," Austin repeats, "and it's still totally your call, are you _sure _you want to wake up twenty years from now wishing you had had that _one _stereotypical college night out?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not going to be what I'm regretting when I'm in my 40s."

"Hey, you never know. It's just something to think about."

Ally twists her upper lip, thinking over his words and her schedule for the next day. Her first class isn't until 10:30, and she _has_ already finished her assignments for the week…. If they get back by one or two am and she goes straight to bed then that _should _be enough sleep to get her through the day. Austin's staring down at her eagerly, and the more she thinks about it the more appealing his suggestion starts to sound. "Okay, one drink," she relents.

Austin lets go of her to pump his fist in the air. Ally presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. "I think you're more excited about my birthday than I am," she comments, shrugging her coat back on and grabbing her purse.

"That's probably right."

Once Austin's outfitted in the appropriate winter attire he grabs her gloved hand with his own and pulls her in the direction of the front door. They make their way to one of the local bars that Austin had apparently looked up days earlier, and despite the freezing weather Ally smiles to herself. There are worst ways to spend the first minutes of your 21st birthday than at a bar with your best friend.

* * *

**A/N: **_**So this originally started out as a ~2,000-word oneshot, but somehow it transformed into 9,000+ words. At this point the fic's looking to be three chapters with an epilogue, although I might split it into four chapters if I continue to let my writing explode. (The majority of this fic is written – just have a few key parts to finalize – so unless something comes up it shouldn't take **_**too**_** long to post the subsequent parts.)**_

_**I haven't written anything in a long time, and I was sort of experimenting with the structure of the fic, so apologies if any of this felt rough. This also happens to be my first Austin/Ally fic, so hopefully my characterization isn't too off. I hope you've you enjoyed so far! **_

_**(Fic title taken from Sara Bareilles's "1000 Times.")**_


	2. Chapter 2

They are 22 and Austin is on his toes, craning his head in an attempt to spy Ally in the sea of students as her graduating class throw their caps into the air. Of course even wearing heels she is one of the tiniest in the (very, very large) group, so despite his best efforts he can't manage to find her.

He just wants to run over and hug her – to congratulate her and tell her how _proud _he is of everything she has done in the past four years. It takes twenty minutes for the graduates to file out of the stadium, however, and then it's another ten before _he _can join the crowd outside Franklin Field, but finally, _finally_, he sees her.

"Hi!" Ally squeals, throwing her arms around him. After a minute she pulls away, but she doesn't object when his hands fall to her waist. "I graduated!" she exclaims, and Austin grins at her, equally excited.

"Not only did you graduate, but you kicked some _serious _ass, Miss Ally Dawson. Let's see… double major _and _double minor, _summa cum laude_, and you _still_ managed to find the time to knock out nine top hits during your breaks." Austin shakes his head in wonder. "Talk about amazing."

Ally blushes at his onslaught of compliments. "It's not like I had particularly hard classes – I wasn't taking BioChem or advanced physics or—"

"Double major _and _double minor!" Austin repeats. "And did I mention the nine hits? Nine, Ally! _Nine_!" He can see Ally's parents and Trish in the near distance (Dez is still back in California, finishing up his film thesis at UCLA), so he lets go of her waist and drapes an arm around her shoulders so they can start walking in their direction.

"Okay, so it's _kind of _impressive," Ally admits, face still red.

"Damn right." She laughs before breaking free to greet the rest of self-proclaimed Team Ally.

#

To celebrate the five of them grab dinner at the restaurant adjacent to the hotel everyone is staying at (including Ally, now that she has emptied out her apartment). Around ten Mr. and Mrs. Dawson head back to their separate rooms, leaving Trish, Ally, and Austin to finish off the night together (and with the bill, but seeing as the three of them have made more money in the past six years than either Mr. or Mrs. Dawson have made in their lifetimes Austin considers the arrangement more than fair).

"So," Trish says, leaning back as she sips away at her tequila sunrise. "Have you decided what you're going to do now that you've graduated?"

Austin goes still. It's a question that has nagged him for months, but in the excitement of the day it had completely slipped his mind. What _was _Ally going to do? He knew what he _wanted __to happen_, but that didn't mean that she wanted the same thing.

"I've actually been thinking about it for a while," Ally admits, stirring her own drink, and Austin feels his heart speed up in anticipation of her answer. "I didn't tell anyone – well, except Aaron, but that's just because he helped me study for the GREs." Aaron. Austin inwardly flinches at the name. That was the guy Ally had come _this _close to dating at the end of her junior year, but right after his graduation he had accepted a job teaching English abroad. To say Austin had been relieved would have been the understatement of the decade. "Anyway, I, um, got accepted to several grad schools. For English literature. I put down a deposit for Princeton back in April."

"Princeton? Ally, that's amazing!" Trish exclaims.

"Yeah," Austin echoes, trying to sound enthusiastic. Another god-knows-how-many years on separate sides of the country.

It's like a kick to the gut.

"_But_," Ally continues, drawing out the word, "I think I'm going to tell them no."

Austin blinks several times, convinced he has misheard. "What?"

Ally smiles shyly at him. "Yeah. I, uh, contacted my label, and I asked if they would be interested in me returning from my sort-of hiatus so I could start recording full time ... and they said yes! I hope one of you knows a good real estate agent, because they want me in their L.A. studios by July."

"You're moving to L.A.," Austin confirms, still not believing it's true.

"I'm moving to L.A.," she repeats, and she breaks into a wide grin.

"Ally!" Trish squeals. "We're all going to be together again!"

"I know!" The two young women hold hands and jump excitedly in their seats, but Austin can only stare at her in shock.

"What is it?" Ally asks when she notices his lack of enthusiasm. "I thought you'd be happy."

Austin rushes to correct her. "No, I am! I just … it almost feels too good to be true, you know?" he says, and suddenly he feels self conscious. "I— we missed you so much, Ally, and now…"

"And now we'll all be in the same city," Trish cuts in, beaming.

"A very, very large city – 469 square miles if we're just counting land," Ally adds, and of _course_ she has to be exact. "But the same city."

Austin pulls Ally into a hug, smiling when she wraps her arms tightly around him. "I missed you, too," she whispers, and he swears to god this is the happiest moment of his life.

He wants to tell her that he missed her more than she knows – that he counted down every second until he could see her again. That he loves her; that he's _in_ love with her.

But the timing feels all off. He knows it sounds like he's searching for excuses – four years ago it was because they were moving away from each other, and now it's because she is moving to the same city. But she has her career to refocus on and now that he finally has her back in his life full-time he doesn't want to do anything that would risk losing her.

Seeing her only every few months had been hard enough. He can't imagine going without her for the rest of his life.

#####

They are 25 and it's the night before the release of their debut album (aptly titled "Austin & Ally"). They are at his place, toasting for the seventh time, and Ally has definitely stumbled into "drunk" territory.

She collapses against him, giggling hysterically over nothing in particular. "You're ridiculous," Austin comments. She feels him lean in to kiss her on the forehead, like he always does when they've been drinking and she does something he seems to find endearing, but he misses and hits her cheek. For some reason this sends Ally into another fit of hysterics, and she accidentally knocks over her glass, spilling champagne onto her hand and the counter. She jumps up, crying, "Oops!" through residual laughter.

"At least you didn't breaking anything this time," Austin calls over his shoulder as he walks to the other side of the kitchen, only to return moments later with a dish rag. He grabs her hands to dry them off, and when his fingers graze the inside of her wrist Ally finds she has lost the desire to laugh.

"I still wasted a perfectly good glass of champagne," she says softly (she always has been a relatively articulate drunk). Her eyes fall back to his hands, still drying off her own, and against her better judgment she imagines those fingers hot against her back, tracing her lips, brushing against—

"It's probably for the best; you're such a lightweight," he finishes with a teasing grin, ripping her from her increasingly inappropriate daydream. As she makes eye contact with him again she feels her face turn red, but he doesn't comment (no doubt he just assumes it's the alcohol).

"Excuse me, but I've had _four_ glasses in _two _hours!" Ally says defensively, trying to distract from her current state. Austin raises an eyebrow. "Okay, three and a quarter. But do you know the alcohol content of this stuff? I think I'm doing pr-pretty well." She sways ever so slightly on the spot, not exactly helping her argument.

Austin laughs and turns his attention to the counter, but on instinct she grabs his hand and pulls him back. "Ally?" he peers into her face, worried. "What is it?"

She shrugs, not really sure herself. "Just didn't want to let go. Not yet." Her head feels light – from the excitement and the champagne – and she feels like taking a chance (on _what_, though, she's not quite sure).

He's staring at her now, eyes brimming with curiosity and something else that she is _certain _she has mistaken for want. Just the thought alone causes her breath to hitch, and she isn't sure who leans in first, but suddenly the space between them disappears and they're kissing.

It's a bit sloppy at first. The last time they found themselves in this position they were seventeen, so it takes a few moment to re-familiarize themselves with each other. But slowly it starts to come together: his fingers tangle in her curls and her arms wrap around his neck. He pushes her into the counter – champagne seeps into the back of her dress (not that she cares) – and all she wants is for him to lift her up onto that damn thing and turn this into a truly clichéd moment. When he doesn't, she wraps her leg around his, somehow managing to bring him in even closer. His tongue slides against hers just as his hand skims the side of her breast, and she lets out a small moan. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the years of anticipation, but it still isn't nearly enough – she wants more. She slips her hand underneath his shirt, and when she splays her fingers against his skin she feels him take in a breath of his own.

His lips break from hers to trace her jaw before moving down the column of her throat. He has one hand on her waist and another at her thigh, moving higher and higher, taking her dress with it... "Austin," Ally whimpers, and it's as if her voice shocks him back to reality, because a moment later he stops. Pulls away. "Austin?" she asks, voice trembling. He lets go of her, averting his gaze, but not before she sees the regret etched in his face. Her heart sinks.

Ally wraps her arms across her chest, feeling lost and vulnerable and somehow terribly alone.

His breathing is uneven, coming out in short pants, but he manages to tell her between breaths, "We should, uh, we should get to sleep. Big day tomorrow." Ally tries not to let the devastation and humiliation show on her face. "Oh, right. O-of course." Austin takes another step back, eyes still averted, and Ally moves past him. "I'll just, uh, crash in the guest room?" Because she still may be slightly drunk (although her utter mortification is doing a damn good job of sobering her up), but she knows better than to think she can make it safely back to her apartment.

"Sure." Austin's voice sounds hoarse and his back is still to her, but Ally doesn't stop to question why.

She forces herself to walk calmly to the room, but once the door closes behind her she slides down to the floor. She leans her head against the door and resists the urge to knock it against the wood. _What were you thinking_? She feels like such an _idiot_. Like Austin would still be interested in her after eight years of absolutely _nothing_.

"Fuck," she whispers to herself, letting her face fall into her hands.

After a few minutes Ally finally wills herself to stand. She goes to the dresser and pulls out the pair of sweatpants and tank she always leaves at his place for occasions like this, and then crawls into bed.

The night is spent tossing and turning, consumed by the fear that she has destroyed the most important relationship in her life. Around three or four am she finds herself staring up at the ceiling, willing god or science or whatever force controls the universe to erase the night from both their memories.

"Like it never happened," she whispers to herself, and maybe she can salvage this wreck after all.

She somehow gets in two or three hours of fitful sleep, but when she wakes up around eight, small waves of panic rushing through her, she accepts that there is no point closing her eyes again. She grabs her dress and slips out of the room, hoping to leave before Austin gets up. To her surprise and horror, however, the first sight that greets her is Austin, dressed in a loose t-shirt and pajama pants, hovering over his coffee machine.

Never in her life has she felt so much hatred for open floor plans.

He glances over at the sound of her footsteps, and he looks as exhausted as she knows she must appear. "Morning," he greets her, an uneasiness in his eyes. "Coffee?"

All she wants is to run far, far away and avoid any interaction with the man in front of her (at least until the release party tonight – there's no way in hell she can convince their label to let her out of it), but her body practically screams for caffeine. The more rational side of her brain – the side that would prefer that she _not _crash her car into a pole due to sleep deprivation, thank you very much – wins out. "I … that would be nice, thanks." She drops her dress onto the couch next to her purse and then crosses to join Austin at the counter (all traces of champagne wiped away). He pours the coffee, but as he reaches for the half & half Ally stops him.

"I think I'll take it black today."

"That actually sounds like a really good idea." He tops off both cups, hands her one, and then sits down across from her. She keeps her gaze lowered, but from the corner of her eye she sees him look up at her every few seconds.

"So … didn't sleep much?" Austin finally asks, just as Ally decides it is safe to take a sip of her coffee. She freezes. Is he referring specifically to what happened last night or just trying to make general conversation? "Um, yeah," she forces herself to say. "Just nervous about what everyone's going to say about the album, I guess." It's a bold-faced lie, but it's believable enough.

"They're gonna love it, Ally. We make a good…" he trails off. "We did a great job with this one."

"Yeah, we did." They sit there in silence for another few minutes, drinking their too-bitter coffee, before Ally works up the nerve to set her plan in motion. "So, um, I hope I didn't do anything embarrassing last night, because I really can't remember anything after that fifth toast." She lets out what's supposed to sound like an embarrassed laugh but what she suspects actually sounds like she is choking on air.

His voice is soft but sure when he tells her, "No, you were fine."

He knows as well as she that even with her horrifically low tolerance for alcohol she hadn't had _nearly_ enough champagne to justify memory loss – of that she is absolutely certain. But Austin's decision to play along confirms Ally's theory: that he had gotten caught up in the moment and wanted to pretend it hadn't happened; that he had stopped viewing her as anything more than his best friend and music partner ages ago. And even though this is what she wants – for them to move past last night – it still _hurts_. This isn't the worst-case scenario, but it is also a far cry from the best.

She forces a smile onto her face. "Great. That's … good to hear." She turns back to her coffee and tries to shrug off the disappointment. Austin is her best friend. Having him in her life is more important than anything else … even if it means having her heart broken from time to time.

And then, seemingly out of the blue: "Look," Austin says, hopping out of his seat. "Why don't we find some place to grab breakfast and then spend the day walking around Venice Beach before whatever stylists our publicists have hired drag us away. There's no point sitting here worrying about what's going to happen." Ally easily reads between the lines: _Let's not do this; let's go back to being us. Let's just jump straight in and return to normal. Let's move on. _And despite the pain still pulling at her chest, she feels her lips curve into the start of a genuine smile.

"We'll get mobbed if we go to the beach," she points out. "Especially you."

"So we wear sunglasses and some really floppy, ugly hats. I know you've got a few hanging around in your closet." Austin shoots her a grin.

"They are _not _ugly!" she objects.

"Oh, they so are. Which makes them the perfect cover – no one would expect major pop stars to be walking around in something that hideous."

"_I _happen to like them."

"Great. So wear one at the beach."

For the first time that morning she meets his gaze. He stares back, his face hopeful and eager. "All right," she agrees with a small nod. "Sounds like a plan."

Austin's face lights up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Ally echoes with a small laugh. "But if we end up spending the day signing autographs I'll never let you hear the end of it."

"You've got yourself a deal."

He holds out his hand.

She takes it.

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick update: my writing did indeed explode (I've somehow exceeded 12,000 words - I still have no idea how it happened), so I'm almost positive it's going to be four chapters with an epilogue (rather than the originally planned three + epilogue). The third chapter would have to be more than 7,000 words in order to avoid a fourth chapter, and I felt that might be a bit overwhelming (especially compared to the word counts of the installments so far).**

**Reviews/comments/thoughts are of course appreciated but not necessary. And on that note, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, faved, followed, or just read this story so far. It means a lot. :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**So I've rewritten this chapter something like eight times. I'm finally giving in, because if I don't post it now I really never will. In other words: there are definitely some parts of this fic that I still feel meh about (...everything other than the first section and part of the final section if I'm being honest), but hopefully it's still enjoyable overall. Also yes, this did end up clocking in at nearly 8,000 words despite my author's note in the last chapter. And no, this does not include the section that will be the fourth chapter. (I am incapable of being concise, I know.)**

**Just a head's up: my laptop's hard drive is about to fail (at least that's what it claims), so there's a chance I won't have easy access to this fic for the next couple of weeks (all of this on top of getting my law school applications in by early November wooooo). Consequently, the final chapter and epilogue might not be up for a bit. =( I'm really sorry. (Hopefully this longer chapter makes up for it.)**

**Okay, enough of my blabbing.**

**(Although before I continue, thanks to everyone who's reviewed/followed/just read this thing. =))**

* * *

They are 26 when they find themselves on the receiving end of their second lawsuit. Someone neither Austin nor Ally has ever heard of accuses them of plagiarizing his work in their latest single, and a day later the label sends them to Richardson & Goldberg, LLC, the country's premiere entertainment law firm (apparently Trish's extensive knowledge of _Crime & Judgment_ just won't cut it this time around).

"These guys are the best," Trish reassures Ally, who has spent the past five minutes tapping her pen against the meeting room table. "They'll get the case thrown out in a heartbeat, I promise. Not as fast as I would…" she mutters under her breath, _just_ loud enough for everyone to hear. Austin resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead turns his attention to his music partner.

"Everything's going to be fine." He reaches out to still Ally's hand, and she finally ceases her nervous tic. "I know," she sighs, leaning back against the chair. "I just … this whole thing is so _frustrating, _you know? There are people out there who think we _stole _that song when we worked so hard on it—"

"I know," Austin agrees.

"Sixty hours straight without sleep!" she cries, straightening up and gesturing. "Sixty hours! All for that song!"

"I remember." (He's exhausted just thinking about it.)

"If it helps, I'm pretty sure the grand total of people who actually think you're guilty of stealing it is, like, twelve," Trish points out. "You two have a pretty solid record going for you, especially considering what happened with the first lawsuit. Which I won, by the way."

"And that's exactly what I'm going to argue if we have to go before the court," a male voice cuts in. "Which, if all goes to plan, we never will." Austin turns in the direction of the voice. The man in question is fairly young – either in his late 20s or early 30s – with dark hair and pleasant facial features. He looks nothing like the middle-aged, slightly overweight man Austin had expected to walk through the door.

"I'm Daniel Allen, one of the partners here at Richardson & Goldberg," the man says, walking over to them. Austin feels Ally's hand slip out from underneath his as she jump to her feet. "It's so great to meet you! I'm Allyson Dawson. I mean Ally. I mean my name _is _Allyson, but everyone calls me Ally – except my great aunt, but she's old and has this thing against nicknames, so we don't hold it against her, and I'm going to stop talking now." She falls back into her seat, and Austin can only watch in horror as her face turns a bright shade of red.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Dawson," Daniel says with a friendly chuckle. "And you too, Mr. Moon. I'm actually a fan of your music, going back to when you were both solo artists."

"Thanks," Austin says. He wonders if his voice sounds as hollow as he feels.

Ally pushes her hair behind her ears and smiles shyly up at Daniel as he starts talking about his plan of attack. Austin glances at Daniel, then at Ally, then back at Daniel.

And it hits him.

Dallas. Elliot. Aaron. Dark hair. What Ally once described as "kind eyes." Wide smiles. They all look just like their attorney.

Ally Dawson has a type, and he is taking the seat right across from her.

Austin wants to end this meeting _right this_ _second_, this plagiarism case be damned, but somehow he doesn't think the higher ups at their label would approve (he _knows _that both Ally and Trish would have some choice words for him). And it's not like he has any justified reason to interfere in Ally's love life. Regardless of how he feels, they are just friends, and that's it. If she wants to date someone, that's completely her right.

So he stays seated, trying to pay attention and answer Daniel's questions, all the while praying that this lawsuit comes to a swift end for all the wrong reasons.

#

Two weeks later Daniel calls them back into his office to tell them that the plaintiff has voluntarily dismissed the suit.

"That's amazing!" Ally exclaims at the same time Austin snaps, "And you couldn't just tell us this on the phone?" Ally shoots Austin a look. "What's your problem?" she mouths, and he slouches uncomfortably in his seat. He's acted weird the past couple of weeks, which she had blamed on the lawsuit despite his confidence at the beginning. But it's over now – he should be happy, right? Unless his issue isn't the suit; unless his issue is with their _lawyer_. But what could he possibly have against Daniel?

"I think this deserves a drink," Trish cuts in. "What do you say, Daniel? Want to join us?"

"Oh, I don't know…" he says, looking uncertain. She sees him glance at Austin, whose face is doing nothing to hide his animosity.

"Oh, c'mon!" Trish says. "It's almost six – you can clock out a bit early, right? And it's not like we're your clients anymore. More importantly, we would _love_ for you to come along. _Wouldn't we, Austin?_" She elbows Austin in the side.

"Ow!" he cries, but at one look at Trish's threatening face he says (with zero conviction), "I mean, yeah, right. It'll be … fun."

"See?" Ally adds, hoping she doesn't sound _too_ eager.

Daniel turns to her, staring thoughtfully, and the blood rushes to Ally's cheeks (a common occurrence these past two weeks). "Okay," he finally agrees. "I could do with a celebration."

"Great! I know just the place," Trish says, jumping up from her seat.

As they make their way out of the office, Trish sidles up to Ally. "You're welcome," she whispers with a wink.

#

"To kicking this suit to the curb," Trish says, and they clink their glasses. Austin downs his drink in two gulps, and Ally stares, eyes wide with concern. When he catches her, he ducks his head.

"It's been a stressful couple of weeks," he mumbles. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. "I'll be back."

"O—," Ally starts to say, but he has already left in the direction of the bar. "—kay," she finishes softly.

"Sorry, he's just in a mood," Trish apologizes with a roll of her eyes. "I'll go talk to him. You two just … stay here and have fun." As if her ulterior motive isn't clear enough, she wriggles her eyebrows at Ally and jabs her head in the direction of Daniel. Ally shoots her friend a look – _could you _be _more obvious?_ – but Trish just smirks as she walks away.

#

Austin sits at the bar, staring miserably at his drink. _It's your own fault_, a voice snaps at him. _You can't be mad at her for hitting it off with some other guy, especially when you've done absolutely nothing to make your feelings known, _and really, he can't find a single flaw in the argument.

Which makes him even more miserable.

He would _kill _to talk to Dez, but he's in Budapest filming his next blockbuster hit (who could've guessed giant props were actually the next big thing?). Granted, Dez's advice would come wrapped up in some food metaphor that Austin is pretty sure wouldn't even _be _a metaphor, and he would have to deal with five rounds of "love whisperer" nonsense. But his friend of nearly two decades has a way of making sense of all the confusion when Austin is too wrapped up in his own head to see straight.

Needless to say, Austin could really use his help right now.

And then, as if on cue: "You're being a jerk." The familiar voice jolts Austin from his private pity party. Of course he gets Trish when he wished for Dez. Not that Trish lacks the ability to help people see straight, but her version usually involves literal knocks to the head. He could do without the extra dose of pain.

"Hello to you, too," he says without even looking up.

"Seriously, _stop_," the young woman orders, taking the empty seat next to him. "If you like Ally, then say something. Otherwise, stop giving her grief."

"I am _not _giving her grief!" Austin objects, swiveling around to face her. "I'm just … in a bad mood."

Trish rolls her eyes, "no shit" written all over her face. "Because of Daniel and Ally."

"_No_," Austin retorts, keenly aware that he sounds like a petulant child. "Because … of this lawsuit. Obviously."

"The lawsuit that you said we didn't need to worry about? That we just got thrown out? The one we came here to celebrate? _That_ lawsuit?"

Austin opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. "Uh huh," she says with a pointed look. "That's what I thought."

"This is _not _about Ally," Austin says tersely. He tightens his grip on his drink.

"Look," Trish says, leaning in closer. "If you want to play the denial game, have at it. I think it's stupid, but it's your life. But you can't have it both ways, okay? Either tell Ally how you feel or stop being a brat. Actually, stop being a brat regardless, but you get what I'm saying." When Austin doesn't reply she continues, "I think she might _really_ like this guy, Austin. When she's around him she lights up. And acts like a total dork, but that comes with the territory. You're not helping things by throwing hissy fits whenever he's around. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but there are few things that get to Ally like you getting pissed at her – _especially_ when she has no fucking clue why."

Austin swirls the contents of his glass, letting Trish's words sink in. "You think he'd be good for her?" he asks, chancing a sideways glance in Trish's direction. To his surprise, her expression is more sympathetic than angry.

"Yeah, I do. How many people can make Ally Dawson smile when she's worried she might be on the outs with one of her closest friends?" she asks with a nod in the direction of the laughing pair. "I think you're good for her, too," Trish adds, her voice growing gentler. "But since you two are stuck in some weird-ass limbo…"

"There's no 'weird-ass limbo,' Trish – we're definitely just friends."

"Which you sound thrilled about."

"I am! Sort of. I guess. I don't know," Austin sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. "It's just the last time we got together it didn't work. And since then the timing just always seems … _off_."

"You were in _high school_," Trish points out. "Don't you think things might be a little different now that you're, I don't know, _adults_? And maybe the timing seems off because you're looking for an excuse not to say anything."

She's completely on target with that last part, but admitting _that_ will just lead to a long conversation Austin would _really_ rather avoid right now. "It's complicated," he mutters instead.

"Look, I get it. If you tell her how you feel it could mess everything up. That's just how it goes when you fall for your best friend. But you need to decide if it's worth the risk. And if it's not, you need to step back and let her live her life."

Before Austin can muster up a response, a hand taps him on the arm.

"Yeah?" he asks, turning around. He's greeted by a young woman, probably in her early 20s.

"You're not Austin Moon by any chance, are you?"

"Oh brother," he hears Trish mutter behind him, followed by her departing footsteps. Austin wants to yell at her to come back – he's hardly in the mood for a fan encounter – but he knows there's no use. So he focuses his attention on the woman in front of him and tries to smile.

"Actually, I am," he tells her.

"Would you mind signing something for me?" she asks, a bit embarrassed. "My kid sister is in lovewith you, and I know she'd die if I got her your autograph."

"Yeah, sure, of course I—" Austin stops and does a double take as he registers the second part of her sentence. "Wait, your kid sister?"

"Uh huh," the woman continues energetically. She pulls out a pen from her purse and grabs a napkin from the bar. "She has your face plastered all over her bedroom – that's how I recognized you."

"So … _you're_ not a fan?"

She laughs. "No, not really my style of music. Although based on the songs Emily's always making me listen to – Emily's my sister – you do have a good voice. Both you and that girl who's on a few of the posters with you."

"Ally Dawson," Austin voices immediately, and he glances over in the direction of his music partner. "She's really great," he adds quietly, watching as she smiles brightly at something Daniel says. Trish is right – he does make her happy.

And it really fucking hurts. Because the selfish part of him hates it; wants to pull her away from the table and drag her to the studio or her apartment or, hell, even a grocery store – anywhere that isn't _here_ – and then spend the rest of his life making sure she never comes into contact with Daniel Allen ever again. But then there's the other part – the part that has only ever wanted Ally to find success and happiness and have everything she could ever possibly want.

Including Daniel.

"About that autograph?"

Austin breaks his gaze and turns back to the woman in front him. "Right, sorry. Who should I make it out to again?"

#

"You're kind of young to be a partner," Ally says after several minutes of awkward silence (which she blames completely on Trish's blatant attempt to set them up). She cringes inwardly at her pathetic attempt at small talk.

But Daniel just chuckles. "I get that a lot," he acknowledges, putting his glass down. "And this is going to sound really pretentious, but if you can figure out a more humble way to say it, _please _let me know: I made partner early because I'm _really_ good at what I do."

"So I guess we were in pretty capable hands?" _Good, Ally – a compliment_. _Just keep it going._

"Yes, you are." Ally eyes go wide, and she sucks in her bottom lip to prevent a laugh from escaping. He seems to realize what he accidentally said (and insinuated), because he quickly backtracks: "_Were_. You _were _in good hands. Both of you – as a collective unit." He leans his face against his hand and shakes his head. "Sorry," he continues, straightening up, face pink. "What I _meant_ is that this lawsuit was really important to the firm. The named partners didn't want a reputation as the team that let 'Austin and Ally' lose a multi-million dollar lawsuit. They wouldn't have given me the case if they thought I couldn't win."

"And you did," she says with a smile.

"Well, sort of. I never had to actually argue the case before anyone – the plaintiff scared pretty easily."

"That's still a win in my book." His blush deepens at her comment, and Ally feels a flutter in her chest. Maybe she's made some progress with this flirting thing after all. A bit overwhelmed, she looks away, her gaze turning to the bar. Trish is nowhere to be seen, but Austin's still there, only he's not alone – he's flirting with a woman he must have just met. Ally watches as he shoots the woman a smile before jotting something down on a napkin (his number, most likely). And despite the past two weeks (fourteen days of falling all over herself and counting down the minutes until the next meeting with their attorney), her heart clenches. Maybe she should have gone with Trish. If she had just made sure he was all right...

_If he wanted to talk to you he would have_, a voice that sounds remarkably like Trish's scolds her. _Clearly he's doing fine without you._

"Ally? Everything okay?"

Ally redirects her attention to the man sitting in front of her, and she remembers _why _Trish insisted on going by herself in the first place. Alone time with Daniel. Right. Because Ally really, _really _likes him, a fact that apparently is written all over her face, if Trish's actions are any indication. But Austin….

_He's flirting with someone else, Ally. What more of a sign do you need? Let it go. _

"Sorry," she tells Daniel with a quick shake of her head. "It's nothing. What were you saying?"

They continue chatting for the next hour, with only two interruptions for autograph requests (much to Ally's relief). He talks about how he got into entertainment law and she tells him about deciding to devote her life to music rather than continue pursuing her education. He tells her about his family – his two sisters and his parents who are still together. She tells him about hers – no siblings and separated-now-divorced parents, but friends who more than made up for the quiet house. He makes her laugh and she feels like she could talk to him for hours, and she realizes that he is the first man, apart from Austin (not that she's thinking about him or drawing comparisons or anything of the sort), who has made her feel this way in a long, long time.

"I … have to admit something," he says after he comes back with a second round of drinks.

"Yeah?" she says, curious.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you out the moment you introduced yourself."

Ally's taken aback, but she swallows her surprise and tries to appear as if that's the sort of thing she hears all the time. "So … why didn't you?"

"Well, there was a conflict of interest, obviously."

"Right." Ally lowers her head in embarrassment. "I knew that."

"And also," Daniel continues. "I thought…." He scratches the back of his head, looking almost bashful. "You and Austin…"

Her heart jumps at Austin's name. "Oh, no!" she says, and in her rush to correct him she hits her still-full drink, causing a bit to spill. She grabs a napkin and starts sopping up the mess. "No, I mean…"

"So you two aren't…?" he confirms. Ally glances down at the wet napkin in her hand and thinks back to the night before their first album came out – another time when she knocked over a drink and somehow found herself at a crossroads.

_You wanted to move on, didn't you?_

Ally turns back to Daniel and shakes her head. "No, we're not."

#

A little after eleven PM Austin's cell blares out the chorus of "Don't Look Down," the ringtone he programmed to play whenever Ally calls. (Okay, so it's not exactly socially acceptable to use one of his own songs as a ringtone, but it's the first song they ever sang together, and it's not like it plays often – phone calls aren't really necessary when you spend practically every minute of the day together.) He stares at the phone, trying to decide if he should pick up. What if she is (justifiably) angry with him for what happened today? She had seemed all right when he said a quick goodbye, but maybe she was just holding it in to spare Daniel a scene.

Then again, after everything he has put her through recently, the least he can do is answer her call.

"Hello?" he greets, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.

"Hey," she says without a hint of anger, much to Austin's relief. "Did you get home all right?"

Heart no longer racing in fear, he moves to his couch and sits down. "Yeah, you?"

"Uh huh. Just got in a few minutes ago." There's a brief pause. "I, um, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. We didn't really get a chance to talk before you left and—"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he cuts her off. "I was just … having a bad day. Or a bad two weeks, I guess. I'm sorry I took it out on you – that was really shitty of me. Sorry. Again."

"Oh, um, thanks." And then, hesitantly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He thinks back to his conversation with Trish. _Either tell her how you feel or stop being a brat. _"I…" but he trails off, and the rest of the conversation floats through his mind. _When she's around him she lights up. Step back and let her live her life_. "It was really nothing," he tells her breezily. "I was being a jerk, but I'm good now, I promise. But thanks for the offer."

"Of course," she says softly. "Just … next time something's bothering you – talk to me?" Guilt courses through Austin at the pleading tone that accompanies Ally's words. "Even if it's something stupid; that's what I'm here for."

"Oh, so not just for all the fame and fortune?" he jokes, trying to push through his own discomfort.

"_Austin_," she warns, but he can tell from her lilt that she's smiling. At least he managed to do something right today.

"Sorry," he answers, adopting what he hopes is a sheepish tone. "Next time I'll talk to you – I promise." And it's a promise he knows he's going to keep, because after tonight he's never putting Ally through something like that ever again. Once was one time too many. "So, what did I miss while I was being a complete jackass?"

Ally snorts at his self-description. "Not much. Except, well, um, Daniel asked me out." She sounds nervous as she tells him the last part, no doubt worried that he won't approve after the show he put on at the bar. Somehow he manages to muster up enthusiasm despite the disappointment brought on by her confession: "That's great."

"Yeah?" Her voice is still hesitant but slightly lighter.

"Yeah. He seems like a really nice guy. I think … I think he'd be good for you," he says, voice cracking, and he hopes to god she doesn't notice.

"You do?"

"I do."

"Well, great. That's … great. For a little bit…"

"For a little bit what?"

"I just, you know, I thought your bad mood had more to do with Daniel than the lawsuit. That maybe you didn't like him. But now that you do I can stop worrying about my best friend and my boyfriend not getting along. Not that he's my boyfriend!" Ally amends quickly. "Just, you know, in case. Um, anyway, what about you? Have any plans with that woman you met?"

Austin furrows his brow. "What woman?"

"The one at the bar."

"The one—oh! No, she just wanted an autograph for her little sister."

"So … you _weren't_ giving her your number?"

"Just the autograph. I signed and she left."

"Oh." She sounds slightly confused, and Austin's not sure what to make of her response.

"Oh?"

"Oh, as in, um, you two looked cute together. That's all."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind if I run into her again," Austin comments, well aware that he won't.

"Cool." A pause. "It's getting late – I should probably head to sleep. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Good night."

"Night, Austin."

Austin lowers the phone and presses "End," watching as the picture of Ally's smiling face disappears from the screen. He flops back against the couch, dropping his phone to the floor. If he thought he was miserable at the bar, it's nothing compared to how he feels now. He knows he did the right thing (he thinks; he _hopes_).

He just wishes the right thing didn't involve his best friend falling in love with another guy.

#####

They are 28 and she is engaged. Their careers are at an all-time high and Ally is marrying a wonderful man, and everything is _perfect_.

Well, everything except for the minor detail of being more in love with her best friend than with her fiancé.

But Austin is nothing but supportive when Ally breaks the news, even sitting there patiently whenever she starts bouncing wedding plans off of him during their free time in the studio. Every so often she finds herself glancing at him over her invitation list or catering choices, willing him to tell her to call it off or just show _some _sign that he could maybe – just possibly – ever return her feelings (on those days she stays at the studio long after midnight, until she's certain Daniel will be fast asleep when she gets home). But it never happens. Instead he keeps staring at the papers before them, voicing a comment here or there. If he felt the same he would freak out and act like a total ass like he had with Elliot all those years ago … right?

So she charges on, flipping through bridal magazines and comparing possible floral arrangements, and eventually she stops glancing in Austin's direction. She asks Trish to be her Maid of Honor, and she immediately accepts once Ally assures her that she can choose the dress she wears. She sends out save the dates, and Dez calls her a few days later, promising to rearrange his filming schedule so he can be there ("I already know what I'm going to wear!" he excitedly confides in her, and she can only hope that it doesn't involve a Zalien costume). Ally works on music with Austin during the day and comes home to Daniel at night, and every evening, as she drives back from the studio, she convinces herself that she is running towards her future, not away from it. She has spent the better part of the past two years convincing herself that moving on – even with her heart _screaming _at her to stop – is the only way forward. She can't turn back now.

And if anyone notices her fidgeting with her engagement ring – as if it doesn't quite fit; as if something just isn't _right_ – they never say a word.

That is, until five months before the wedding.

#

_She walks down the aisle, making her way to Daniel. Her heart is racing and she is almost certain she's going to throw up all over her perfectly white dress. Her palms grow sweaty as she finally reaches him, and then he turns around…_

_Only it's not Daniel._

_It's Austin. _

_And she knows she should feel confused or worried. She knows she should race out of that church and demand to know where her fiancé is. But she doesn't. Because the moment her eyes fell on Austin her stomach stopped turning and the world stopped spinning, and every last doubt vanished._

_So she lets Austin take her hand and swear his vows and slip the ring onto her finger. She lets him smile down at her, placing his hand low on her back as he closes the space between them. Only she doesn't just let him kiss her. She reaches up, desperate to bridge the distance, and as their lips finally meet she thinks her heart will burst out of her ch—_

She wakes up, blinking as her eyes adjust to the dark. She quickly glances to her side, guilt coursing through her, before she remembers that Daniel is in New York for a meeting and won't be back until tomorrow morning.

_It was just a dream_, she thinks to herself as she tries to steady her breathing. _And even though most experts agree that dreams are often a manifestation of unconscious desires that doesn't mean…_ She stops, knowing how stupid she sounds right now. "Fuck," she whispers to the empty room.

The clock on her bedside table informs her that it's five in the morning – too early to call Trish (especially on a Saturday), but it's already eight in Cincinnati…

She turns on a light, grabs her phone, and selects "Mom" from the contact list, waiting impatiently as the phone calls the corresponding number.

"Hello?" a groggy voice asks.

"Mom?" Her anxiety must have seeped into her voice, because her mother's response is immediate. "Ally? What is it? What's wrong? Are you okay? Is Austin okay? Is it Trish? Has something happened to Da—"

"No, Mom, it's fine, everyone is fine!" Ally cuts her off. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Or wake you up."

"It's all right; my alarm was going to go off in a few minutes, anyway. But what about you? It's five in the morning out there."

"I know." Ally worries her lip, unsure how to respond. "I, um, I needed to talk to you."

"What is it, honey?"

Ally stares up at the ceiling, wondering how to even _begin _this conversation. _I think I just had a dream about marrying someone who isn't my fiancé. And if that wasn't enough, I was _relieved _I was marrying this other person. On a scale from one to ten, just how horrible a person does that make me? _She takes in a deep breath and then exhales, searching for the courage to tell her mother why she called. "So, um, _hypothetically_, if someone were, say, getting married to a _really _great guy, but they had a dream that they were marrying someone else … that wouldn't mean anything, right? I mean, people have dreams like that all the time before their weddings … right? That's normal?" She decides to leave out the part about her dream self feeling sick at the thought of marrying Daniel. It already sounds bad enough as it is.

"Well, I suppose it depends. In this hypothetical was this dream happy, or more like a nightmare?"

"Happy. Hypothetically."

"Right. And hypothetically, have you told Austin how you feel about him?"

Ally's heart stops. "I … I didn't … how did you know?" she demands, sitting up. She crosses her legs and pulls her covers tight to her chest, as if this will somehow protect her from the horrifying situation in which she has found herself.

"Oh, sweetie," she hears her mother sigh. "I've been waiting for this call since you got engaged."

"You … you _have_?"

"Well, when you called to tell me about your engagement you spent most of the conversation talking about the last leg of your tour with Austin."

"Th-that's because Austin and I had just gotten back!" Ally sputters. "And we had had an amazing time and—"

"More amazing than being proposed to and knowing you're going to spend the rest of your life with someone?" her mother asks pointedly.

Ally swallows. There's no point denying any of it, not when she's well aware that her mother is right. "I … I do love him," she says in a small voice. "Daniel. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't."

"I know," her mother says gently. "But I think we both know you're not _in_ love with him. No matter how much you wanted this to work out."

"Does it really matter, though? How I feel about Austin?" Ally asks, desperation creeping into her voice. She pulls at a stray thread on her cover. "I mean he isn't even—"

"Isn't what? In love with you?"

"Yes." On the other end, her mother lets out a laugh. "What?" Ally demands. "Why did you laugh?"

"Ally, do you remember when you were in high school and I came back from Uganda, and I knew there was something going on between you and Austin? How I said his feelings for you were written all over his face?"

Ally furrows her brow. "Yeah?"

"Sweetie, they still are. They have been this entire time."

Ally's mouth goes dry. "Wh-_what_?" she says, unable to reconcile her mother's words with the past ten years. "No," she says, shaking her head. "No, you've got it all wrong. He's not in love with me. He hasn't been for a while. Believe me."

"I know it's hard to see something like this when you're right in the middle of it, especially when it's a relationship as complicated as the one you have with Austin—"

"There's nothing 'complicated' about it, we're just—"

"Friends?" Mrs. Dawson finishes skeptically. "When was the last time Austin was in a serious relationship?"

Ally feels her face heat up. "Mom, he's … famous. And busy with his career. He doesn't have time for that."

"_You're _famous and busy with your career, yet here you are planning a wedding."

"Well, yeah, but that … it's different. I _want _to be in a relationship." At least she used to.

"And you think Austin doesn't?"

"I—no, of course he does. But … I mean … it's not like he hasn't _been_ in relationships."

"But none of them serious," her mother repeats, and she takes Ally's silence as confirmation. "Why do you think that _is_?"

"You're saying it's my fault he hasn't—"

"No, of course not! This isn't _anyone's_ fault. I'm just saying there is a reason Austin hasn't pursued a serious relationship with anyone."

"And you think that reason is me," Ally says, still not believing the words coming out of her mouth.

"No," her mother answers softly. "I _know _it's you."

"Mom, I'm sorry, but you're _wrong_. I don't know what you think you've seen, but I know he doesn't feel that way. I … three years ago … three years ago I kissed him," she admits, and somehow she manages to stay calm as memories of that night come flooding back to her. "I kissed him and he stopped me, and god, when he broke away… You should've seen the look on his face – like he had just made the worst mistake of his life."

"And that's what he told you when you talked about what happened?"

Ally bites her lip, knowing her answer will likely result in a lecture. "We, uh, we kind of skipped that part."

There's a pause on the other end of the phone. "You two kissed and then decided that the smart thing to do was to _not _talk about it?"

"Um, yeah," Ally says, shifting uncomfortably in her bed. "We've never really been good at that."

"Talking?"

"Yes. Well, no. But yes. When it comes to how we feel about each other. Or _don't _feel about each other, in his case."

"Ally…" her mother says, her disappointment clear. "You know better than to let something like that just hang in the air."

"That's not the point," Ally objects, attempting to distract from her mistake. "If he had felt the same way, he would've said something after. But he didn't."

"Maybe there's a reason he didn't say anything. Maybe it's the same as yours."

Ally pulls on the thread just a bit too hard, and it breaks away from the cover. The thought had never occurred to her. She had been so wrapped up in trying to move past his rejection that never once had she let herself entertain the notion that an alternate explanation existed for Austin's behavior that night.

Still, 'another reason' didn't explain his expression when he rejected her.

Did it?

"I'm not sure what happened three years ago," her mother continues, interrupting Ally's train of thought, "but I _can_ tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Austin is in love with you. You have to trust me on this one, okay? Just … give it a little more time."

"Suppose you're right," Ally says slowly, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Suppose he is in love with me. He's had _years _to say something, and he didn't. So isn't the healthy thing to move on? You don't seriously think I should put my life back on hold and hope for some kind of miracle, do you?"

"I think you already know the answer to that question," her mother answers quietly. "You wouldn't have called me about your dream if you didn't."

"But Daniel—"

"You can't marry someone when you're in love with someone else," her mother says, not unkindly. "It isn't fair to Daniel and it isn't fair to you. You both deserve better."

"I can't just wait around for Austin for the rest of my life," Ally protests. "That's not _rational_."

"You won't have to. He'll come around – sooner if you say something. And I know," her mother continues before Ally can protest any further. "He didn't say anything before. But maybe he just needed a push – a _different _kind of push."

Ally falls silent, completely at a loss for words. Her gaze falls to her engagement ring – the one that never seems to fit. It's a bit too heavy and just a bit too showy and somehow it just feels _wrong_.

It felt wrong the moment Daniel slipped the ring onto her finger.

And she knows what she has to do. She knows she needs to call off this wedding and break up with Daniel. But there's still the rest of this incredibly confusing situation to deal with, and it's not going to be nearly as simple (not that breaking the heart of someone she cares about will be easy). Ally closes her eyes, her fingers clenching the fabric of her comforter. "I don't know if I can put myself on the line like that again."

"Oh, honey, I know it's scary. But if you find the courage, I think you'll find it'll be more than worth the risk. That's what love is all about, isn't it?"

"Isn't it also about being happy?"

There's a pause, and Ally can almost hear her mother smiling from 2,000 miles away. "Exactly."

#

Daniel takes the news surprisingly well. He kisses her on the forehead and, voice choked, says he always had a feeling he didn't quite come first in her life. There are tears but no anger, and part of Ally wishes she could find some way to love him more – to love him _enough_ – because he really is a wonderful man.

But she knows she never will.

He moves out of her apartment, taking her engagement ring with him, and she throws out all of the bridal magazines that had piled up in their— _her_ living room. Austin comes over that evening with frozen yogurt and DVDs. ("How did you know?" she asks when he shows up at her door, because she hasn't had the energy to tell anyone – even Trish. "Daniel, actually," Austin replies, looking guilty as he utters her ex-fiancé's name. "He texted me after he left – said you might need a friend.") He ends up spending the night holding her as she cries about Daniel and, well, _him _(not that Austin knows). The frozen yogurt melts and the DVDs go unwatched, and they wake up the next morning curled up together on her couch, necks soar.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks, threading his fingers through her hair. Shivers run down her spine and her eyes flutter shut as she lets the feeling wash over her. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm the one who ended things, remember?" She opens her eyes and finds Austin staring at her with a furrowed brow. "Seriously, Austin. I promise. I mean, really, how could I not be? I've got you." She means that last part jokingly, but there is a weight to her words that she had not intended (_that she has always intended_). Austin smiles and pulls her into a hug. "You will _always_ have me," he murmurs into her hair. Her mother's voice echoes across her mind: _He's in love with you_.

And as he draws light circles against her back; as his arm stays tight around her waist, holding her close; as she feels his breath warm against her neck, she suddenly understands what her mother saw this entire time.

Austin's cell phone rings and they spring apart. Austin gets up to answer it, and Ally scurries off to the kitchen in an attempt to gather her thoughts. _Give it some time_. But how much longer is she really willing to wait?

She glances up as Austin joins her in the kitchen, still on the phone. He rolls his eyes and mouths, "Sorry; our publicist." A few moments later she hears him say, "Would you mind if we discuss the details later? I was in the middle of something important and I really need to get back to it." A pause, and then, "Great, thanks. Talk to you soon, Mel."

He pockets his phone. "Sorry about that."

"It's Mel. Believe me, I understand." She goes to the fridge and pulls out several eggs and a carton of milk. She turns back to him and asks, "So what was so important that you had to call her back?"

Austin laughs, like she's made some sort of joke, but when she doesn't join in he stops and stares at her incredulously. "You," he says, as if it is the most obvious answer in the world.

It shouldn't surprise her, the way he always puts her first. Not after thirteen years. But there is a small part of her – that same part that still wants to shy away from an audience or worries about how awkward she appears at the same moment she _swears_ she doesn't care what anyone else thinks – that has trouble accepting that she could ever be that important to anyone.

Maybe that's the problem.

"I, uh, thank you." She clears her throat. "It means a lot."

Austin smiles. "Like I said: I'm always here for you."

Ally bites her lip then smiles softly. "I know." She turns her attention back to breakfast, spreading out the ingredients before her. As she takes out a bowl, Austin grabs salt and pepper from the nearby cabinet and places it on the counter. Ally starts mixing together the ingredients, meeting Austin's request for a high five when she has to fish out only one piece of egg shell ("You're this close to getting your own cooking show," he teases). She's reaching for the milk when something on her left hand catches her eye and she freezes, her hand held in midair before her.

Austin peers at her. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," she tells him, shaking her head at her own reaction. "I just … I have a tan line. From the ring." She lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. "I never noticed before. I didn't think about it – it's not like I'm out much, but I guess just living in L.A…." She places both hands on the counter to steady herself. Austin reaches over, running his fingers lightly against the pale ring of skin. "It'll fade eventually," he says softly.

"Yeah," she agrees. "Eventually." Ally glances up, and her breath catches in her throat as they lock eyes. His hand is covering hers now, his thumb tracing patterns against her wrist. She swallows as his gaze flicker down to her lips for the briefest of moments. If this were a year ago – even a week ago – she would have convinced herself that it was just her imagination. But she knows it isn't. Her heart starts to pound and she can feel herself leaning in, drawn in by his stare, but before she can do anything rash she stops herself. Now is not the time to kiss him. She is still a mess from the break up, and the last thing she needs is for Austin to get the wrong idea – to think that she's just turning to him because he happens to be there.

So she turns away, pulling her hand from his, and clears her throat. "Omelet or scrambled?"

"Scrambled," he answers, voice slightly rough.

"Scrambled it is, then."

_Just give it some time, Ally. Give it some time._

* * *

**A/N:** **So yeah, other than the final part, this chapter was relatively short on Austin/Ally interactions. I'm really sorry about that! Originally Ally's engagement was just an off-hand comment (so no lawsuit or bar scenes, and a shortened version of "28" prior to the called-off engagement). Basically, back when this was supposed to be a one-shot, I wanted to keep the story focused completely on Austin/Ally, but it felt really cheap and, well, lazy to just move straight into that section without any background (especially after expanding it into a multichap fic). Of course in an attempt to flesh it out I ended up writing 4,000 additional words. Eep. That's actually one of the reasons I struggled so much with this chapter – I was in a completely different zone when I wrote most of it. So if anything feels off, please let me know – feedback is greatly appreciated. (And major kudos if you read through this entire author's note – I know how much I ramble.)**


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